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Hearts Blood - Juliet Marillier
- Дата:11.10.2024
- Категория: Разная литература / Прочее
- Название: Hearts Blood
- Автор: Juliet Marillier
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“Bless you, child,” said one, and the others said, “Amen.”
Anluan was talking to Eichri now, a hand on the cleric’s shoulder. Rioghan stood alone, his red cloak a bright note in the moonlight. I walked over to him, remembering the day the two of them had met me on the road and showed me the way.
“Rioghan.”
He had never been given to smiles, and he did not smile now, but there was a warmth in his dark eyes.“Caitrin, lovely lady.You’ve brought our boy great happiness. Be happy yourself, my dear. Live your life well.”
“I will, Rioghan.You’ve been a wonderful friend. I want to thank you for your loyalty to Anluan.” Curse it, I had thought myself strong enough not to shed tears; there would be time enough for them later, when this was done. “I wish you could stay with us. I hope you find what you most long for. Surely you have earned that by now.”
“You’ve a great deal of kindness in you, Caitrin. May the world treat you as kindly.As for what unfolds next, for me, for that wretch of a monk,” the glance he cast Eichri’s way was affectionate,“for the rest of this motley bunch, who knows what we can expect? A different ending for each of us, perhaps.You are right to use the word hope.That is all we can do.”A shiver passed through him, and he pulled the cloak more tightly around him.
Next, Cathaír. He had changed since the day I fled the Tor to confront my own demons. His eyes still darted about; his pose remained restless, the weight shifting from foot to foot. But there was a purpose in his face, a strength and repose in the contours of it. He had been at the very forefront of the attack today, leading the warriors into the heart of the enemy camp. He had played a vital part in the victory. I saw confidence in his look, and a new self-respect. Anluan’s trust had transformed him.
“You will be glad to go, Cathaír,” I said.
“I have waited long for sleep, lady.Yes, I will go joyfully to the land beyond the gray. Yet I would not have been without this day. These last days. Watching the Tor come alive again; singing the song of battle . . .” He fell to one knee before me.“Lord Anluan is a true leader. It has been an honor for me to serve him. But you . . .” His voice faltered, then grew strong again. “You came here with love in your heart. From the first we were real to you, as real as when we wore the flesh and blood of our living bodies.You did not look on us with judgment, but with compassion.You gave us hope.”
My tears were really flowing now. I laid my hand on his shoulder. “You’re a fine man, Cathaír,” I said.“You’ve served him with great courage. I wish you peace.”
This was getting harder and harder. I caught Anluan’s eye as he clasped Eichri in an embrace. He smiled, and I saw that if it was a trial for me, it was far more for him. He had lived amongst these folk all his life. They were his family.
As Anluan moved away, I went up to Eichri and, abandoning the conduct of a chieftain’s wife, threw my arms around him. A chill embrace, but my heart felt only warmth.“Dear Eichri, I’ll miss you every single day. I’m so sorry you have to go, you and Rioghan.” I stepped back, my hands on his shoulders. Immediately I saw that something was different.The strange necklace with its cargo of bones and unidentifiable shrivelled objects was gone. In its place my friend wore a strip of leather from which hung a plain wooden cross.
Eichri saw me looking and grinned.“Never thought you’d see the day, did you, Caitrin? No doubt I convinced you I’d forever remain a sinner unrepentant. I almost convinced myself.”
“How did you . . . ?” I could not find the right way to ask the delicate question.
“Brión of Whiteshore brought a priest with him to tend to the injured and speak prayers over the dying.We talked. I had been asking myself certain questions for some time, Caitrin; going over my past errors. We are taught that God forgives sinners. I did wonder if a sinner such as myself could ever be deserving of such mercy. I haven’t been sure, in the past, that I even wanted it. Something changed in me while you were gone. Perhaps it was the pattern of goodness that you brought with you. Perhaps it was the flowering of hope on the Tor. At any rate, I spoke to Brother Oisín of my past. He listened and gave his opinion that I was wrong about God’s mercy. So I’m working on repentance. Just as well, as it turns out. I pray that this ritual does not condemn me to a hundred years more in that gray place halfway between here and there. More than the fires of hell, I fear boredom.” He regarded me soberly, then flashed his big teeth in a new grin. “And no, I didn’t ask Brother Oisín about a certain secret library. He seemed the kind of man who would be deeply shocked by such a notion.”
“Anluan will never seek it out,” I said, glancing over to where the chieftain of Whistling Tor was now bidding a grave farewell to Rioghan. “He will conduct tonight’s ritual because he must; nobody else can make it work. I believe that after this he will shun the least exercise of magical arts. He fears becoming his great-grandfather all over again. I think he will destroy the grimoires.”
“Mm.” A look of speculation entered Eichri’s shadowy eyes. “This place is full of magic, Caitrin. Whistling Tor was a place of eldritch tales long before Nechtan came along to dabble in sorcery. Such a long cloak of uncanny history is not so easily cast aside. Anluan should keep his books, just in case he needs them.That’s my opinion. Farewell, my dear. Look after that fine man of ours.”
“I will.” I scrubbed a hand across my cheeks.
“It’s time.” Anluan’s deep voice sounded across the darkening courtyard and a hush descended. Magnus lit a torch from the little brazier and climbed the steps to set it in a socket near the door of the house. The flickering red light sent Anluan’s shadow across the ritual circle to touch the empty space in the center. The people of the host began to gather between snake and star, five silent groups of men, women and children. I had wondered how the spaces Olcan had marked out could accommodate so many, but there they were within the lines of sand, a somber, shadowy throng. Rioghan slipped off his red cloak, dropping it onto the flagstones where it lay like a pool of dark blood. Eichri was waiting close by.The two old friends embraced, looking long into each other’s eyes.
“I’ll wager two silver pieces we end up together again, Councillor,” Eichri said, and Rioghan said, “Done, Brother!” But all they exchanged was a smile. Eichri’s brethren were forming a small procession, their lips moving in silent prayer. He stepped into the line, and they moved into the circle as if entering a chapel. Rioghan placed himself with the warriors, who clasped his hand in greeting and farewell, each in turn.
Gearróg was at the foot of the steps, keeping guard over Anluan until the very last moment. I went to stand beside him.
“Thank you, Gearróg,” I said. “For keeping Anluan safe for me; for courage beyond the call of duty. For being yourself. I hope you will see your dear ones again soon. I wish you happiness, my loyal friend.”
If he could have spoken at that moment, he would have. I could see that there was too much in his heart to allow words. He gave a nod, then moved away to take his place amongst the host.
On the bottom step close by me a small figure crouched, head down, shoulders hunched, bundle in her hands. Trying to be overlooked; trying to be invisible.
“It’s time, Caitrin,” Anluan said, glancing at the child, then at me.
I sat down on the step beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. It was like plunging my arm into ice water. “Sweetheart,” I murmured, “you have to go now. You need to step into the circle with the others. Time to say goodbye.”
Frost-white face turned up towards mine; shadowy eyes fixed on me. “Go where?” she asked.
“Somewhere good,” I told her, feeling like a liar and a traitor. “You might see your mama again, maybe.”
“I want to stay with you,” the ghost child said, her little voice clear and true. “You can be my mama.”
A spear straight to the heart. I could not find an answer, for none was right.
“Come, little one.”The wise woman reached out a hand.“Step over to me. Take care not to set your feet on the sand; lift them up high, as if you were dancing.”
The child did not look at me again. She walked across, stepping neatly, carrying my mother’s embroidered kerchief and the last fragments of Róise, token of my sister’s love. She stood beside the wise woman, between two points of the star. Her eyes stared into nowhere.
“We’re ready to begin,”Anluan said quietly. Magnus stood on his left. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, then took up my position on his right. Olcan was by the brazier. “I will call her.”
But there was no need to call. From the archway to Irial’s garden Muirne stepped forth.The neat concealing gown and veil were gone. She wore an ancient garment that had once been white, a high-waisted gown with an embroidered hem. Its skirt wafted around her as she approached. Her hair was loose, a shimmering waterfall. A little wreath of greenery crowned her head. Her eyes shone in the moonlight. “I’m here, my lord,” she said.
My skin prickled. Aislinn come of her own accord to help us? Aislinn already clad in her ritual garments, calm and willing? We had been certain Anluan would need to summon her, and that she would have to be forced to play her part. We had anticipated reluctance, fury, perhaps fear. Not this.
“There is much I could say to you, Muirne,” Anluan said, keeping his tone level; no trace in it of the bitter fury I knew he bore towards her for the deaths of his beloved parents, the attempt on my life, the long years of suffering.“But I will say only this. For the wrong my great-grandfather did you, I am sorry. For the wrong you have done to me and my people, God will judge you.”
She watched him calmly, not a flicker of emotion on her face.
“Tonight is All Hallows,” Anluan said.“One hundred years have passed since you cursed the family at Whistling Tor, and it is time for the doom you set upon us to be lifted.”
“You are no Nechtan,” Aislinn said. “Try, by all means. Try and fail. You’re so good at that.”
Anluan took a deep breath, held it a moment, released it slowly. “Take your place in the center, Muirne. Regrettably, it seems we need your assistance.”
“It seems so,” she said, and turned to walk across, lifting up her skirt so it would not brush the ritual markings out of place.The folk of the host shrank back as she passed, and someone hissed. In the very center of the pentagram, Aislinn halted and stood facing us, hands clasped demurely in front of her. “I’m ready,” she said calmly.“Attempt your little spell by all means.”
Anluan fixed her with his gaze. “You will be silent,” he said, and she was.The faint smile that played on her lips troubled me; it was as mocking as her words. If she was prepared to stand there, in the very spot where she had suffered betrayal and death, she must be quite certain we would fail.
Olcan had strewn the ritual herbs on the brazier, and the air was filling with their scent, pungent, compelling, startling the mind to wakefulness. Anluan commenced his slow progress around the circle, pausing at the quarters. I knew from the grimoires that for a spell of banishment the circle must be cast the other way, so he walked contrary to the sun’s path, and the form of words we had chosen was different, too.
“Mystical spirit of water, we honor you!”Anluan moved past the ghost child, who stood beside the wise woman in the west of the circle. The little girl had bowed her head and was staring at the ground. “Purifying spirit of fire, we honor you!” He passed the warriors, who stood tall in pride at today’s achievement. “Life-giving spirit of air, we honor you!” He walked by the monks, who knelt with hands together in prayer. Several ghostly women were supporting one another with joined hands or arms linked; their eyes followed his progress.“Nurturing spirit of earth, we honor you!”
Anluan had completed the circle and now began to pace out the lines of the pentagram, walking with care so the sand was not disturbed. In keeping with Nechtan’s ritual nobody stood within the points of the star, but all huddled in the spaces between, save Aislinn, alone in the very center, looking like a winter princess from an old tale, all white and gold.
Anluan’s slow walk was done. He turned at the final point, standing where the lines joined in the north; he lifted his arms and spread them wide. “Divine essence of the soul, source of all goodness and wisdom, we honor you!”
He paused, drawing a deep breath. It was time for the counterspell. His voice rang out anew, deep and compelling. “Erappa sinigilac oigel! Mitats ihim erappa!”
A shiver went through the people of the host, a shadow of memory. The words held power.They hung in the air, conjuring the unknown.
“Egruser!” Anluan called. “Egruser!”
He waited a little, and the air grew colder around us. He spoke the words of banishment again. I sensed a darkening, though no cloud had covered the full moon. As Anluan opened his mouth to speak the words a third time, it seemed to me that something was pulling towards the circle, as if it would draw us all into that world beyond death. My jaw was tight; my heart hammered. Now . . . now . . .
“Egruser!” Anluan cried, and the spell of dismissal was complete.
Silence. Nothing stirred. Nothing changed, though the bone-deep chill remained over us all. Then Aislinn’s laugh came like a peal of bells. “What did I say?” The look she turned on Anluan was almost affectionate, like that of a wife teasing a husband for his endearing clumsiness.“Caitrin got it wrong.You got it wrong.You are no sorcerer.” She turned in place, surveying the folk of the host, folk who had just seen their dearest hope dashed. “He’s failed you,” she said.“You were fools to expect anything else.”
“Shut your poisonous mouth!” roared Gearróg, stepping towards her with hands outstretched as if to take her by the neck and throttle her. Others moved too, the old warrior Broc, one or two of the younger men.
“Hold still!” called Anluan, and they did. “Do not disturb the pattern!”
“This is over, Anluan,” Aislinn said. “You can’t do it. Admit it. Your foolish woman there has made a promise you can’t keep.This does not end so easily.”
“Be silent!” Anluan roared. Out in the circle the ghost child began to cry, a little, woeful sound.
“What do we do now?” muttered Magnus.
Think, Caitrin. The Latin words had been right, I was sure of it.The pattern was right; the herbs were as close as we could get them.The elemental greetings had been carefully worded—Anluan’s reluctance to tread the path of sorcery had made that essential.This was the right place, the right time . . . I gazed across the circle, desperate for an answer, and met the limpid eyes of Aislinn. I remembered Nechtan’s lust for her, the way he’d seen her every move as an invitation. She’d been young, pretty, desirable—for him, perhaps more desirable because she was also clever. That girl in the first vision had begun to lose her conscience, but she was far from the evil being who stood amongst us now. Nechtan had wanted her. He had chosen not to bed her. He had known that to do so would ruin his great work of magic.
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